Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar Poems

Flowers dress themselves in different colours
To attract bees, who are not colourful.
Flowers mind visits of bees, not their colour.
Hence women dress to get spotted.
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A woman in glamour is like camphor;
A woman in modesty is like a candle;
A woman with composure is the coal.
They exude warmth to men accordingly.
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Wheels are dusty; Mudguards are dusty;
The hygienic steering never despises.
It knows dust comes from the work done.
Don’t despise coolies for their lowness.
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Flowers, in different coloured petals, are in display,
In a vase, upon a podium, in a banquet hall
For the visitors to see, breathe and vanish.
Likewise are brought ladies in extravaganza
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The poet is a child, emotion ridden.
The critic is a teacher, a check dam.
The poet bursts to cry or weep.
The critic stands there with a whip.
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That day is the day with rebound of joy.
She waited as I told, and had my call.
The same flavour was in her talk, I saw.
Her love hasn’t gone stale by time and space.
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It is a welcome sign that women strive hard
In all walks of life to be equal to men.
Also it is a dangerous sign if it reaches
To the extent of being equal in masculinity.
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There is hue and cry for woman’s emancipations.
All women shout for it at men who they thing are the cause.
It is their mothers-in-law, sisters-in-law and
The elder women who are the oppressors,
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To my mother that I love my wife dearer,
And to my wife that I have crush for another,
I can’t confess and hence hide them and lie.
Everyone lies. Everywhere lays lie.
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Send your girl with a boy.
She returns to you safely.
She might not, with an uncle,
Who has grown with guilt tamed.
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